The Nullarbor Plain, seven hundred miles of waterless plain but with many trees (and untold kangaroos) is other-worldy in its exquisite and remote presence. Like most parts of non-urban Australia it is a dangerous and even fatal place for fools and risk-takers, who regularly pay the ultimate price. This piece is about the aura of darkness that surrounds the happy traveller in such surroundings.

This poem recalls a certain zeitgeist I detected during benign winter days spent in my adopted home town of Perth many years ago; lassitude, provincialism, an inclination towards fatalism, perhaps merely bourgeoise self-satisfaction. It did not survive the new century, needless to say.

It seems that the old-time "magic show" is experiencing something of a renaissance, especially in the visual mass media. Even so, I doubt its fundamental attraction will alter one iota. The gap between acclaim and scorn is still wafer-thin.

Many years ago I was intrigued by the appearance on Perth roads of bumper stickers displaying the enigmatic statement that "The Goddess is Dancing". I had no idea what this advertising campaign was all about, so I put together my own preferred explanation.

This piece comes from an exhibition of the work of celebrated Australian artist and sculptor Brett Whiteley. Parts of his enormous masterwork "Alchemy" can be found on the cover artwork of Dire Straits' album of the same name. A long-term drug user, he died in 1992 from a heroin overdose.

The large Greek island of Naxos in the Cyclades group is an excellent example of the best of its kind, and in any era: wealthy, influential, single-minded, ancient and beautiful. The narrow passage-like streets of Chora, its major settlement, inspire in some an other-worldly sense of the preternatural, the extraordinary. Hence this speculation.